


tastes like ice cream

by pixiepuff (colourmecrunchy)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: (they touch the tralala), Friends to Lovers, M/M, Porn, another old idea turned into a full blown fic because a dear friend has a bday, imagine endless sleepy times of two tired boys and then also endless ooga chaka chaka, like seriously this is porn there was never even an inkling of a predisposition for plot, maybe this site needs a double E rating, my tags are deteriorating now i must slumber too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmecrunchy/pseuds/pixiepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley was already feeling too warm for his own skin just from waking up like this, but Colin’s intruder of a leg was scorching and <em>solid</em> and so tantalizingly close to where Bradley could show him exactly how much he was enjoying this; he was pretty sure he was slipping toward his own premature terminal combustion and Colin was there to light the fuse with an expression of absolute glee.<br/>And possibly wave at him while Bradley shoots across the sky. (No pun intended. Pinky swear.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	tastes like ice cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rou/gifts).



> (1) i have nothing to say for myself. i could write something deeper than Always or cuter than Picture says a 1000 words and it still wouldn't be worthy of my birthday girl. this is for you, my brolin queen.
> 
> (2) in the past i have asked you for a couple of brolin manips that came to fit this story so well it's frightening. and because they are beautiful and maybe people either forgot about them or haven't seen them yet, i'm including them, credited of course, within the text - if you prefer the fic without them, just say the word xxxx
> 
> (3) for all my words i am incapable of giving you a proper bday greeting. so imma let U2 do it for me: " _i am still enchanted by the light your brought to me_ "

"Say boys, when was the last time you slept?"

When, _indeed_.

Bradley just sighs and forgoes the rubbing of his face awake, or slapping his face awake, or even slapping Colin’s face awake at this point. It’s no use. They are knackered and it shows, though Bradley has to admit Colin is pulling that one off spectacularly, just like he does everything else that’s considered a totally undignified human behaviour, like coming down with flu, barfing after too many jaeger bombs, or sitting down all miserable-like when the make up lady is trying to put some concealer on him. Hell, if an actual Godzilla-zombie showed up and everyone shat their pants, Colin would probably look like composing a beautiful sonata in the middle of a sewage warzone.

Eoin’s question comes out of nowhere in the middle of a wrap-party-dinner which ought to turn into a proper party sometime between the second appetizer round and the soup, like it normally does (with Eoin killing it on make-shift karaoke machine, Bradley reminisces half-fondly and half in terror), but this time it’s slightly more subdued due to the main duo looking like - shit.

His query is not unwarranted – Bradley and Colin have been nothing but unresponsive, sometimes resembling a couple of look-a-like Bradley and Colin rocks for all their unmoving, all put-hippos-to-shame yawning and alternating between leaning against the back of their chairs and each other. The cast around their table would have thought it rather sweet if it weren't for dark circles under their eyes and tired features that would need no mask in a proper futuristic genre. Bradley sighed again. It hurt to even think. He spent the last five minutes wondering whether "3" was a number or a letter and could swear he could _smell_ Eoin’s obnoxious yellow tie. The one with orange dots. It hurt his eyes as if he was looking directly at the Sun.

Filming out of schedule is a bitch, and covering up for sick days is an even bigger bitch, and the last few episodes of the series have been a nightmare, both him and Colin needed at ungodly hours – Bradley doesn’t mind said ungodly hours, but he prefers himself awake if the agenda consists of unhealthy breakfasts, shagging, and Super Mario, not filming pointless love scenes that are, as an ultimate blow under the belt, actually left out in the end because he didn’t bother enough, but had to film them anyway. His fatigue showed with interest, and boy shouldn’t he had become a banker if he has such a penchant for this getting more than he bargained for talent?

They were nearly done now, just needed back at the studio on Monday for some voice editing, mainly Colin for his dragonlord dirty sextalk (shhh that’s how it affects Bradley and sometimes in the wee hours of the night he wishes dearly he had been born as a mythological creature instead, that way dropping down at Colin’s feet would be a) totally appropriate and b) highly praised by the man in question, even), Bradley wasn’t even sure he himself had to be there for anything, but knew full well (accepting defeat in his weak resolve that he randomly pops up at all the places Colin currently inhabits) he will be there as well.

But back to Eoin’s question.

Colin had the decency to look like he needed a minute to process it, and then deemed a shrug back a proper answer, but Bradley actually tried to count the days. Emphasis on tried.

"Tuesday night? I think?"  
"Bradley that was three days ago."  
"Okay then maybe monday."

Richard cut in. "You both look like you're going to pass out any minute now." Colin gulped down some water, merely existing there as if he wasn’t actually there in the flesh but as some mirage of an ethereal creature – his description wasn’t actually far off, Bradley thought, momentarily impressed what his slumber-deprived brain could muster – "But you know we have to be here."

Colin always using the pronoun “we” for them as if there was actually anything that gave him a reason to speak for both of them usually made Bradley a bit breathless, only that when it happened tonight, he nearly had a minor black out. When he shook his head, Richard did the Quizzical Brow thing and pursed his lips.  
"But when it's over, you are going back home to sleep, right?"

It was Bradley’s turn to speak for both of them. "I have my sister over, I don’t know, it seems a bit rude just sleeping the weekend away. And you know Collin here, any small disturbances and he won't sleep at all."  
Tony smirked. "I don't, actually."  
"Me neither!" Eoin’s exclamation was right on cue and, as always, without remorse and refusing to wither under Bradley’s bitch stare.  
Katie winked back. "Since, you know, he never crashes in one of _our_ trailers -"

Bradley would normally react differently to such ribbing, but at the moment, a lift of his left eyebrow was really all he could do. Barely. He wasn’t even sure others noticed. He tried extra hard to convey all his disdain with that one little move, when it was Colin, of all people, who supplanted his hard efforts of maintaining a royal I Portray a King For Fuck’s Sake pose.  
"Bradley's right, though. I won't be able to sleep in my flat all alone after days of caffeine and adrenaline and orders-"  
"So what if we order you to go to sleep?"  
"Eoin that's not gonna help, I'd almost literally need somebody to hold me down. I just won't relax."

Words that, once filtered through Bradley’s haze of unfortunate work-induced-insomnia and starved sexual need, sparked delicious, _delicious_ and also very compromising thoughts (and worse, images) of holding down a very willing Colin, and he realized it would just be his damn luck if anyone should find out. Or be a mind-reader at their table. (He did a quick survey but no one seemed to be smirking to themselves in quiet. Apart from Eoin, but he always smirks as if he knows all the world’s greatest secrets, like how the fuck do cats always land on their feet and why is a hot air balloon so hot and who bothered to fuck around with the statues on Cook islands, so Bradley never counts Eoin as a viable option.)

Eoin extended his arm towards Bradley and made an impatient wriggle with his fingers.  
"Your phone."  
"My what?"  
"Phone, Bradley. You still know what that is?"  
"Whatever do you need it for?"  
"Just give it."  
"Fine."

With a small huff, Bradley handed the phone over, leaning back against his chair and watching with vague interest. This wasn't the first time Eoin wanted his phone, always claiming his was flat, but by now Bradley thought they were so over Eoin changing all the names on everyone’s contacts list to their characters' names, always trying his best to be creative. In a daft, childish way. Up to this day, Bradley's fave monickers remained Lesbana for Katie, Guinequeer for Angel, Gayus for John and Mrs Arthur Pendragon for Colin. The last one was his favourite by far, but it was also the one that made Colin give Eoin a fortnight of a silent treatment and _accidental_ salt in his coffee.

Eoin fiddled with the keys and then lifted the phone to his ear. Bradley suspected he’d be much more alarmed at this if not for his whacked out everything.  
"Yes hi- ... no this isn't Bradley, it's Eoin, his co-worker- yes, hi, thank you, that is so sweet of you- um listen, I need to ask for a favour-… anything? Oh you are too sweet we should get together some time” – at which Bradley furiously shook his head because as far as Terrible Ideas go this had to be in top 3 – “- okay in a couple of hours I will need you to turn into a perfect nurse for two sleepy boys-… What? Yes yes, of course I'm talking about Bradley and Colin. I know you've noticed he's wrecked and Colin isn't faring much better, so I need you to keep an eye on them. Oh no, it's gonna be easy, just make sure they sleep. What do you mean where are you going to put them both? ... You're in the guest bedroom? Even better, just put them both in Bradley's room and make sure they stay there all weekend, yeah? My goodness you're a doll, thank you so much. Yes, they'll be home soon. Oh and Colin’s into rabbit food so you might want to go and get some veggie snacks if they ever wake up for food. Cheers dear."

Eoin ended the call and returned the phone, looking all smug. Bradley thought he’s doing a brilliant fish out of the water impersonation, when he noticed with the corner of his eye how Tony failed terribly at hiding behind his whiskey glass, trying to gain some control over his grinning mouth. Katie sat with her hands across her face, peeking through her fingers, waiting for an outburst from one of the lads. Bradley would love to have a comeback that would leave Eoin embarrassed and scowling all over the place, but it’s difficult to be witty when you’re bordering on lethargic so hard RSPCA might come in any minute now and force down some intravenous therapy tubes in you.

"Eoin-"  
"One word and I'm staying the weekend at yours too, just to make sure you sleep. And trust me, you. will. sleep."  
Colin suddenly leaned forward, his forehead hitting Bradley's shoulder and then, seemingly satisfied with the comfort it provided, nestled there. "Sleep."

Whatever Bradley meant to say died in his throat as he looked down, fearing his expression all too gentle for their current audience. "You wanna come over to sleep?"

Colin usually came over for many, many reasons, sound reasons like film marathons, new video games, script readings, smaller cast parties, or less sound reasons like volunteering to help Bradley with new furniture, or trying new recipes that almost always consisted of something Bradley has vowed to himself at the age of 5 he will never ever try, and then oddly finds himself eating anyway, or weird ass claims such as "I noticed you wore a pink shirt the other day you clearly need someone to help you separate your colours from your whites", but Bradley never really found it in him to protest, even if he did try to tell Colin that he needs proper sustenance to keep up with requirements for Arthur's role, or that he actually does know how to do laundry, and that it was in fact Colin’s misplaced red socks that coloured his shirt pink. He’s still not sure how Colin’s socks ended up in his hamper in the first place and wondered silently what the fuck were they up to during that weekend’s piss up, but has long ago decided to just blame Eoin for everything and also hope his mother won’t find out any of it.

"Mhh. Sleep."

Just like that it was settled. If Bradley was a bit more observant (on top of his tiredness he now had to deal with supporting Colin, or more importantly, his head, and Colin’s head had those _ears_ , a considerable weight in itself) he’d notice everyone subtly low-fiving each other under the table.

 

***

 

Inside Bradley's flat, his sister did look half-amused half-surprised that Eoin’s phone call was actually real.  
"I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not, but I went and got some more food anyway," she gestured to the bags on the counter, something green and hairy poking out from one of them. "But I suppose you're not hungry right now?"  
Colin looked at her as if she was some kind of an angel, but then decided to prioritize his needs, shifting his gaze and hopefully looking toward the master bedroom. "Sleep," he murmured again, his vocabulary operating on the only word he still knew the meaning of, clutching to it like a lifeline.  
Bradley chuckled and pushed him towards the bathroom. "Go and have a shower, I'll bring you my clothes in a minute."

Bradley blatantly ignored his sister who was now sitting on the couch with a beer in her hand and a grin on her face that said _I’ve known you all my life I know exactly what’s up little bro_ , and still ignored her after he knocked on the bathroom door a few moments later to hand over something comfortable for Colin to sleep in. If he felt more like himself he would have had the decency to be nervous, and giddy, and hopeful, and a lot turned on, probably, and then he went and tried to _fluff_ up his bed to impress Colin anyway. Obviously he was completely stupid by now and shouldn’t be left responsible for his actions.

There were enough pillows for a small army and two big white quilts, a sight for sore yes that was perfection all on its own, and if one counted the prospect of adding Colin to the equation, well. One had to admit future looks bright.  
When Colin entered the room a few minutes later, damp hair and sleepy smile and wearing borrowed black sweat pants and a gray T shirt, Bradley had to bit the inside of his cheek. This was too damn cute, bordering on ridiculous. He’s never seen Colin like this before, if he crashed here he crashed on the couch and was at least in a more or less moany state of various levels of intoxication, smelling of beer and organic tortilla chips, but this time Bradley could smell clean soap , and, okay, remember his previously mentioned supernatural ability of smelling the yellow of Eoin tie? He was pretty sure he could smell the soft curve of Colin’s elbows and ears and other things and just – faster he goes to sleep, the better.

Colin looked down at the bed a bit sheepishly, gesturing in its general direction, and killing the last remaining functional (or willing and able, in other words) brain cell in Bradley’s head.  
"Which side is mine?"

 

***

 

Colin was in his bed.  
 _Colin_.  
In his _bed_.

Just like that. With Eoin’s help, no less. He always thought that if one day he'd actually pluck up the courage to even let himself think of such an apocalyptic event as Colin spending the night the _proper_ way, it'd probably be after weeks of wooing him and then not doing the actual sleep. His cheeks heated at the thought, taking small comfort in the fact that Colin was here willingly, not putting up any fight against the idea of spending the weekend in Bradley's bed. Again, Bradley would like an alternative to sleeping the weekend away with Colin, but right now he decided he'd take what he could get and not be too greedy about it.

In all honesty, he should be asleep by now. All he wanted for the past week was this evening and his bed, and fine, Colin too, but he wanted Colin always, so that particular shape of white noise didn’t count, and now that he was finally here, he couldn’t sleep. Especially since Colin himself didn’t seem to have any qualms about their sudden arrangement. He curled up on the left side of the bed, which after ten minutes became left-to-the-middle side of the bed and was now bordering on totally-in-the-middle of the bed. Bradley's stomach did that unpleasantly pleasant flip you get when on a roller-coaster or when your chair swivels backwards dangerously, or apparently also just when you watch Colin being tucked in right to the tip of his ears, his eyelashes nearly touching the skin of his cheeks, a muffled sigh of content leaving his hidden lips every now and again.  
He's seen Colin asleep before, but never in his bed and Bradley suddenly felt more awake than he was in days despite all the caffeine and energy drinks he has wolfed down in a very unattractive (and sadly Colin was privy to some of it) manner.

The moon cast just enough light inside to allow him to stare, owl-eyed and transfixed at Colin's black hair reflecting imaginary silver particles, thinking dumb Thomas Parnell 17th century poetry of _so strangely you dazzle my eyes_ , and it was only after Colin shuffled, his arm coming up for air and settling around Bradley’s middle that made Bradley experience the exquisite high of a legal (barely, though) blood rush and emotional electricity through him, and then falling asleep finally, as if only now he has earned it at last.

 

***

  
 

art by [rou](brolinskeep.tumblr.com) from [here](http://brolinskeep.tumblr.com/post/99755500624)

 

He woke up a few hours later, feeling oddly warm and confused, a mixture that wasn’t uncommon to his nightly routines, but right now his first thought was that he overslept and was late for some sword-fighting and was just about to bolt up, when he noticed the source of all the warmth. He was spooning Colin, properly text-book spooning him into oblivion of sweet dreams, completely unsure of when or how that happened and if it was him who moved forward or Colin sliding back, but there they were, warm and comfortable and pressed together and he would tell the biggest lie in the universe if he claimed this wasn’t the single greatest feeling he’s experienced in his life so far. He held his breath in for a few moments, waiting if Colin is awake, not wanting to give himself away or either of them to move, but when Colin actually let out a tiny little snore and nuzzled into the pillow, Bradley exhaled and relaxed back into the heaven of _soft_ that surrounded them.  
If he felt like doing some 2 am modernistic poetry, he might celebrate the shape Colin’s body took in his bed and cross-reference it to Colin’s delicious use of glottal stops in his mucked up pronunciation, but he was sleepy and his head was empty so he only thought how magnificent Colin’s ass feels against his crotch.  
Taking home field advantage and feeling extra bold, he slowly slid an arm across Colin's middle and counted no protest - even if Colin was asleep - a victory. He tried not to think of himself being creepy or _worse_ , Colin smacking him away, getting up and leaving the flat and country and Bradley’s life because of it, but he couldn't calm down his raging heart.

Damn hormones.

And Colin.

 

***

 

Next time he awoke, Colin was shivering. There was no way he was cold, so Bradley chalked it down to nightmares of being over-worked and under-paid and under-fed as well, most likely, and thankfully remembered Colin’s _I'd almost literally need somebody to hold me down_ admission at the dinner.

He enveloped him and grounded him by laying pretty much on top of him, being mindful of their body structure differences, but managing to press Colin firmly and yet gently into the mattress anyway. Colin let out a stressed sigh, and then stilled, his breathing returning to a slow up and down of his chest under Bradley’s.  
Bradley’s heart ached a little bit at the thought that Colin usually had to deal with these kind of stress-induced nightmares on his own.

 

***

 

He had no idea how many of hours of sleep did he get in until his next waking, but his consciousness stirred at someone drawing circular patterns into the shirt on his chest. When he moved his head and peered through his eyes, Colin blinked back at him sleepily. Just being able to see this told Bradley  two things - one, it was dawning outside and two, he could definitely stop feeling guilty for the spooning because their creepiness must have cancelled each other's touching-your-friend-while-he's-asleep out.

"Hello," Colin murmured. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning they turned again, Bradley on his back, Colin facing him on his side, head propped up by one hand, his other now still on Bradley’s chest.  
"Hey yourself."  
Bradley was mesmerized by how Colin wasn't freaking out over their proximity, which was pretty much the exact opposite of what he was doing a few hours ago himself. He stretched a little, not being able to prevent himself from watching those long slender fingers still resting on top of his shirt.

"Is this okay?"

Colin's voice was small, it was soft and tender as if speaking louder might burst this little bubble of warmth and calm and _what ifs_.  
"Yeah." Bradley whispered back for identical reasons.

Colin brightened at that, his smile showing teeth as he lowered his head on Bradley's shoulder but keeping his hand, now palm down, heavy and light and sure and resonating warmth on his chest.  
"So is this going to be a weekend of sleeping and cuddles now?"  
"Colin this weekend can be _whatever_ you want it to be."  
Colin chuckled with a quiet _is that so_ , but his hand slid a few inches lower, stopping on Bradley's stomach.

The roller-coaster queasiness was back full force, but Bradley hardly noticed.

"I like you in my clothes."

So maybe he didn't mean to blurt that one out right now, or maybe even ever, especially if it was creepy (he’d have to Google it to be sure on that one, you never know these days), but if Colin touches you like that, you can't really think straight (no pun intended). Bradley certainly couldn't.

"Maybe I like being in your clothes too," Colin murmured back, slowly sliding a leg between Bradley's. Bradley was already feeling too warm for his own skin just from waking up like this but Colin’s intruder of a leg was scorching and _solid_ and so tantalizingly close to where Bradley could show him exactly how much he was enjoying this, he was pretty sure he was slipping toward his own premature terminal combustion and Colin was there to light the fuse with an expression of absolute glee. And possibly wave at him while Bradley shoots across the sky. (Again, no pun intended at all. Pinky swear.)

He groaned at the images his mind supplied to that innuendo and tugged Colin in for a kiss.

 

***

 

As far as first kisses go, he's never had one before where long months of emotional and sexual frustration came into play, he was more of a Nike guy, _Just Fucking Do It_ , Think About Absolute Embarrassment Later, and how he actually didn't care that they just woke up after hours of sleep because all he could taste was a mixture of those garlic canapes from the party and coffee and Colin. Colin, who must have been at least partially insane for kissing back surely, all soft lips – lips Bradley found himself staring at as himself and as Arthur for ages now – and quiet sighs and warm limbs.  
Colin's leg slid up a little bit more, only faintly brushing against his balls, sending sparks of excitement and pleasure into his lower belly, making him break the kiss with a low moan.  
"Colin."  
"Mhm?" Colin lost no time in moving his head and mouthing at Bradley's neck, leaving his leg as it was.  
"If you don't- maybe you should- your leg I mean, move-"  
Hard as a diamond, he was.  
Eloquent, not so much.  
"Like this?" Colin, the dirty bastard, grinned against his neck, pressing his leg up and _closer_ , making Bradley whimper and flail a little bit. He was ridiculously turned on and if Colin only wanted a bit of making out, he should stop right now because Bradley wasn't sure he could still think in a few seconds. His abilities to form coherent, cohesive speech were deteriorating as we speak, seriously, he could see the bar going from green to yellow to _red_ , but Colin wasn't done apparently. He whispered hotly _do you want me to stop_ into Bradley's ear, licking at the earlobe, making him shiver. When Bradley didn't reply, Colin hoisted himself up on his elbows, threw a leg over and straddled him all in one move.  
"Do you?" He repeated, still breathing in his ear, slowly grinding down.  
When Bradley realized they were both hard he nearly marked the day as a British Thanksgiving, his hands shooting up to clutch at Colin's biceps, holding on until something takes pity on him, either waves of new sleep, or maybe premature ejaculation, he’d take literally anything at this point.  
"I certainly don't. Tell me." Another lick at his ear, another delicious grind of his hips, the slow rubbing of their cocks that should by all means remind them of some adolescent rut and not this surprisingly sensual experience, strong enough to make Bradley dizzy with want. Not to mention his _holy shit Colin can dirty-talk_ realization along with a silent but good lord how _telling_ confession of his traitorous body arching up into the tease above, showing Colin how much Bradley is really really into that.  
"Tell me, Bradley."  
It might have been the name that did it, that Colin whispering his name in such a filthy way (and Jesus how is he so agile already, he can’t be human, can he) proved to him that Colin was indeed fully aware who was under him, panting and hard and unable to say anything back out of sheer power of emotions and want cursing through him, and yet he was still there, grinding down, his face looking a little occupied as if this was actually a dream, or a really good simulation of it.

"Don’t stop," Bradley choked out, finding his core, both physical and emotional, rolling his hips up and relishing in the feel of them pressing together, now slightly faster, appearing more desperate for the contact.  
"So glad you finally joined me," Colin cheekily breathed into Bradley's ear, hotly exhaling when one of Bradley's hands left his bicep and found his ass.  
In response, he pushed his hips down at a new angle, probably trying it out but as with everything else, making it appear as if God has some master plan and that he _is_ the God in question, making their cocks slide together directly against each other, hot and hard without losing this new rhythm. A thought of how this would feel if they were both naked ran through Bradley's mind then and he groaned loudly, completely unable to stop himself.  
Colin was breathing hard too, whispering against his lips. "Shhh be careful, your sister is just across the hall."  
"Oh fuck her."  
"I think not. I'd much rather fuck you."

Bradley's eyes went wide, and he toppled over the edge with a burst of blissful thrill, slightly annoyed with himself that he fell for that millennia old and over-used pun, but damn it Colin’s voice put a new kind of dirty edge on it and he wasn’t even through coming down from the orgasm-high yet when Colin started kissing him hard and fast, his tongue doing something pretty spectacular in perfect sync with his hips as he pushed down, chasing his own release.  
Bradley wasn’t exactly sure why he thought bad pun for bad pun exchange was the only logical way to go at this point, but when he quipped _maybe later?_ , Colin’s head hit the pillow next to his ears, whimpering something nonsensical, apparently not expecting a comment like that and unable to keep quiet himself. He burried his face deeper, shaking all over as if he needed something more. Without knowing Bradley gave it to him, wanting to see if dirty-talk works both ways for Colin.  
"This is so not the last time I'm making you come this weekend."

Colin bit down hard at the juncture where Bradley's neck met the shoulder and shuddered with so much force that Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head because fuck did that feel good despite him being done himself, and it was then he realized Colin was coming – _Colin was coming inside Bradley’s pants in his bed_ , he was definitely going to declare this day a bank holiday from now on, momentarily indulging his disgusting thoughts of never washing those shorts again – with Colin's heart beating so wildly Bradley could feel it through their chests pressed together as if they shared the damned heart.

 

***

 

Bradley realized there were several bullet points on the daily agenda to discuss, namely a) when did guests become so smarmy to sexually molest their own more than willing host as if they own the freaking place, b) shouldn’t said molestation take place in a less compromising setting without the said willing host’s sister in the next room and c) how the hell does the host hope for an enticing reprise of the original impromptu molestation if he fell asleep immediately after, leaving their guest to have a pillow talk by themselves?

Having no memory of dosing off and wanting to have a minor rant at himself for it, Bradley realized it was once again Colin who woke him up. This started to remind him of the time the family cat back at home took a liking to him and decided to stick her whiskers at his nostrils every night every two hours, and sighed dramatically.  
"You hungry then?"

A small snort was the only response, a puff of air at his throat.  
"You smell so good right _here_ ," Colin drawled out lazily, nipping at the soft skin, and Bradley always thought that he was too old to be sporting around hickeys, but fuck that because seriously, if it meant Colin had put it there, he'd take a photo of it for the tabloids himself.  
"Why aren’t you asleep?"  
"Having thinky thoughts."  
"Thinky thoughts."  
"Yeah. You want the good news or the bad news first?"  
"Surprise me."  
"Bad news is I totally ruined your pants, and you probably totally ruined yours, too, and both of us fell asleep making the matters even worse because now the stuff’s dry and gross and I’m afraid to take the pants off in case I get an involuntary exfoliation of my nether regions and maybe we should help each other out here, undressing I mean, because as much as I believe in pulling the band-aid off in one go and all that, we should go slowly here just in case because I don’t want to wake up the whole building with my sack wax?"  
"Wow. Okay? Okay what’s the good news then?"  
"Oh, just that once we do get the pants off I can finally suck your brains out like a starved out zombie?"

Bradley would like to explain to Colin that he cannot answer to a question with another question, especially if he didn’t even mean it a question in the first place but more like just-telling-you-what-I’m-definitely-planning-on-definitely-doing, but is being promptly shut up as Colin actually sits up and starts fumbling with their clothes.  
"Better be thorough and remove the shirts as well," was all the warning he received before Colin quite unceremoniously stripped him naked and then proceeded to give him a one over.  
Bradley lifts his left eye brow.  
Colin lifts one in response.  
Bradley sighs _romance is dead_ in mock disappointment.  
Colin throws his head back and laughs and then without proper warning or even taking a big breath somehow bends over and lands on Bradley’s cock, mouth first.

Bradley flails, too many different sensations taking hold all at once, like the one in his heart that makes him feel like Colin is the biggest idiot to walk this Earth but that he’s also the single greatest person Bradley’s ever met which makes him quite brilliant, really, or the one in his cock that just goes _oh fuck yeah Colin’s mouth_ , and he agrees with both of them but he also needs to have a quick count how long they slept for because he isn’t some miracle cock-worker here and his recovery time might be pushing it. He probably says some of this out loud because Colin grins dirty and wide around his cock, giving him an insufferable wink, dipping his head low and proving to rock-hard-again Bradley that yes, he is definitely ready for another go.  
Bradley thinks people’s characters mirror the way they give blow jobs completely, because Colin is meticulous, and observant, and has a singular focus of a laser tractor beam, a piercing stare and a wicked mouth, and when all these things come together to work on one project called Bradley’s raging erection, he could be crowned as Britain’s next best thing. His tongue takes no rush, he tastes and explores in a way that doesn’t leave the receiver lacking any luxury of it.  
His thoughts swim away on some unidentified surface that could be the sea of bliss but could very well also be Colin’s devilish promise of Awesome Things, as he is being squeezed and stroked deliciously. He’s responding before he thought possible, feeling exposed and on display but also so so admired and it’s enough for him to sound all broken and wrecked, his arms uselessly at his sides, hips lifting up on almost every upstroke of Colin’s hand or shameless swirl of his tongue.  
He doesn’t know what must be going through Colin’s head, but he knows something is, something definitely is because Colin stops and shudders, whispering _shit_ in a really wrecked, aroused way. Bradley seemed to forget again that they have to be quiet, moaning Colin's name and coming hard and fast over half of his face.  
He mentally adds another bullet point for his discussion agenda as d) Thou shalt not miss your guest’s mouth, but the pleasure is too big and seeing Colin laughing slightly and yet looking still so damn captivated at what he was doing that Bradley decides there have to be worse hosts than him out there.

He’s not allowed any rest because Colin is apparently a bad, bad guest who also has a bit of a Nike attitude flowing through his veins, pulls out the drawer of the night stand and rummages through. Bradley has no time to protest in horror at what will Colin find, when Colin turns around, oh _god_ with still soiled face, and grins as if Eoin just called and explained one of those world’s biggest secrets.

"Interesting stuff in there, yeah."  
"Your fault for looking."  
"Shall I refresh your memory of the contents?"  
"Go on, indulge yourself."  
"While I was trying to find some tissue wipes-"  
"You could have _asked_."  
"- I found this photo of us-"  
"It was only in there because I hid it from my sis!"  
"-resting on top of half-used lube-"  
"Yeah well."  
"-and what looks like a really pretty casing for a dildo."  
Bradley just colours at that.  
Colin whips out the wipes and cleans his face, and pushes the drawer in with amusement plastered all over his features.  
"I’m rather jealous of it."  
And then:  
"Let’s not speak of it again."  
And then:  
"Because I’m here now for that sort of thing."

Bradley isn’t sure what just transpired there, he went from being whacked out due to lack of proper REM sleep to being whacked out due to Colin being a horny devil, and The Talk wasn’t anywhere near the top of previously mentioned agenda, but Colin’s made some weird future admissions he might have misinterpreted and will just let them slide right now and be all hopeful instead. When he reaches for Colin, determined and thrilled to return the favour, Colin swats his hands away with a big yawn.  
"More sleepies now."  
"You sure?"  
"I’ll definitely wake you up again."

 

***

 

"There's actually no way in hell you'd let us have a post-orgasm cuddle and proper rest time, is there?"

Bradley sees the way Colin is staring at him, smiling hungry like a wolf, and feels a headache coming in. Colin wasn’t kidding about having light restless sleep and high sex drive. But this time it’s definitely point in Colin’s favour because he looks hungry, yes, but he looks hungry for food if the plate he’s holding is anything to go by, and Bradley wants to kiss him for braving the frontline and hunting down some food for them.  
"My sis?"  
"Nowhere in sight. I hope you like hummus."  
"Mad for it."  
"Good cuz I chopped some carrots for dipping."

Bradley flops back down into the covers and whines, and thinks about explaining the concept of proper sustenance to Colin again, but then gives up a battle already lost, and opens his mouth when a looming sticky carrot appears somewhere at the top of his field vision.  
"Bacon and eggs," he mumbles, hoping Colin will file this wish for future trips to the kitchen, and then promptly forgets about it as Colin sucks hummus off his fingers.

"You know."  
"Yes?"  
"The shirt you lent me is still salvageable."  
"Yes the shirt is fine, I know."  
"Maybe I should take it home with me and give it a proper wash just in case."  
Colin pointedly stares at him them, trying for some telepathy or telekinesis or whatever, and Bradley blinks hard, when it hits him. _Oh_.  
"Colin?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Do you want that shirt?"  
"Maybe."

  
Bradley grins in triumph. "You want my shirt because you like the way it smells and you want to wear it _all_ the time from now on and- hey!"  
Colin throws a carrot stick at him, looking guilty and entertained at the same time. "Shut up."  
"You totally dooo."  
"You’re an ass."  
"You are."  
"Yoooou."

Maybe they topple the few remaining carrots to the floor as Bradley surges upwards and kisses him hard.

 

***

 

art by [rou](brolinskeep.tumblr.com) from [here](http://brolinskeep.tumblr.com/post/104005019916)

 

It is late in the evening of, Bradley doesn’t even know which day, he’s lost track of time and feels like they so deserve this, when he wakes up again, the room almost in full dark. Before they fell asleep after their snack, they settled back in with the covers high around their shoulders and Colin’s nose tucked against the nape of his neck, Bradley wondered aloud, drowsy with sleep.  
"If the guys ever find out, what do you think they'll change your name into on my contacts list?"  
Colin stirred, not even lifting his mouth from Bradley’s skin to murmur an answer.  
"When, Bradley. Not if."  
And then, just before he dozed off –  
"Probably to Mrs Bradley James."

He marvels at the fact that it was him this time who woke up first. The room is quiet and dark and he feels a bit more like himself again, the depleted reserves of his sleep restocked all the way up to a functioning level. He feels something warm stirring deep inside him, making him squirm and gasp and it's then that he realizes it's not butterflies at all. Not this time. What he thought were butterflies are pretty much war birds of some exotic place like Klingon rainforest, all puffed up beautiful feathers and big and dangerous and powerful in a really agreeable, fun and gratifying way, and that’s exactly how he feels for Colin. It’s ridiculous to call it love, he thinks, not after years of this. Love sounds like some teenage invention and poor description of inadequate feelings right now, and he’s sure he can name this thing between them way more properly. Fondness turned to affection sometime between the first and the second season of Merlin. Infatuation walked hand in hand with lust and weakness in some weird emotional threesome ever since Colin woke up and laughed like an idiot at Bradley’s joke nobody else got. The irrational fidelity on his part was unshakeable as Bradley began to look at Colin and himself and what they have even as really good friends as ardent affinity.  
Okay _fine_.  
So he loved him.

Colin mumbled something, shaking him out of this weird midnight thesaurus run, and he realized they were still naked. With Colin still asleep.

Bradley grinned.

He was enveloping Colin from behind, the position giving him fantastic playground of all the reachable things. He indulged himself by sucking enticing patterns into the palatable skin of Colin’s neck, while his hands had free reign of sliding up and down Colin's lean torso. Colin, too drowsy to move, or maybe not even awake yet, let him. Bradley's hands were warm and he relished at the fact how boneless and pliant was Colin in his arms, feeling his skin prickle wherever Colin sighed slightly at the more intimate touches as Bradley’s hands dipped ever lower.  
His fingers spread out over Colin’s ribs, gently rubbing the skin with the pads of his thumbs, going slowly up and down, up and down, swiping over Colin's nipples. Bradley is awarded with a faint moan and a cat-like arch and he keeps his fingers there a little longer, teasing the skin, rubbing across it in slow circles. He slides his hands back down, rubbing harder low on Colin's stomach.  
"Bradley," Colin hums out almost half-gone already, now fully awake with a heated tremor of want seeping through him into Bradley, being turned on without even being properly touched yet, and Bradley breathes hot into his ear.  
"I promised I'd make you come again, didn't I?"  
The tumble off the edge from there is fast and so different from its gentle, sensual start, Bradley wonders if the first part actually happened for real at all. Colin twists his head as much as they need to actually kiss with abandon, ignoring the slow languid pace of their first kiss, mouthing at each other hungrily, short breaths being exchanged as if they can produce oxygen for each other through some sex photosynthesis, Bradley taking a firm grasp of Colin’s cock and mercilessly stroking him into oblivion.  
He pours himself into this act, the only selfish thing about this is that he can’t stop kissing a breathless Colin, but the rest of it is all him trying to show Colin he matters, he matters so much, and it needs to be good-better-fantastic for Colin, Bradley won’t accept or stop at anything less. He twists his hand after he learns what Colin especially likes and keeps the rhythm that allows a good build up and a stronger orgasm, not just a fast jerk off and release. Bradley's hands don't stop stroking and his lips don't stop whispering sweet nothings into Colin’s ear whenever he’s not kissing him, and it's the realization sometime between Colin’s _yes, yes_ that these nothings are Colin's _everythings_ that have him stepping up his game, pressing his own erection at Colin’s ass, showing him how much he’s loving this too, that has Colin shuddering hard and long and intense with his second orgasm of the night.

Bradley recalls Colin bemused bitching about soiling the sheets as well, and then telling him to stop worrying and go back to sleep, but not before Colin huffs something along the lines of _we’ll have to talk about your untidiness_. Bradley smirks and tells him eating only carrots won’t result in him having enough energy to do the laundry or lift other heavy weight, like couches or Colin’s cock.  
Colin barks out a laugh and just when Bradley thinks they’re half-way to dreamland again, an impossibly sweet and all too innocent kiss is pressed to his forehead.

 

***

 

They next time they wake, Bradley’s not even sure which one stirred first, but both of their bellies rumble loud in the stillness of the room and they laugh at the mundane tasks that are still required of them despite being one hundred percent sure they could feed on happiness and sex for the rest of their lives. Reality calls and Bradley thinks he’d rather face it with a full stomach.  
He tugs on whatever he grabs at at the top of the shelf and tells Colin he’ll bring them a jug of water. He’s gulping down a glass in thekitchen first, no need for him to dehydrate so unfortunately just hours after what he suspects was another well-concealed love declaration from Colin, when Colin emerges from the bedroom.  
He’s wearing something of Bradley’s again, staring at his phone in horror.  
"It’s Sunday?"  
Bradley grins affectionately and warns himself he must absolutely refrain from doing so in the public or Colin would have his ass (a third unintended pun and also a highly desirable one at that), and fills his glass again. He lifts it to Colin in a silent toast and is in the middle of the bottoms-ups when Colin comes around the kitchen isle and hugs him from behind, pressing his face into Bradley’s neck and stays there.

"Awwh."

Neither of them notice his sister, who is leaning against the corridor wall, grinning half-apologetically with a hand across her mouth as if the coo she uttered wasn’t meant to be a voiced one lest they spook, and yet they have done exactly that. Bradley nearly drowns from the water in his mouth going down the wrong pipe, yelping in pain when Colin’s grip on his arms becomes Superman-like with nails turning to claws.  
"Aww shit," he murmurs, after the coughing stops, and hopes Colin isn’t catatonic behind him.

"I made broccoli soup if you want some," his sister helpfully supplies, already pulling plates from the cupboard a little too fast and too accommodating. Bradley still stands by the sink, cursing his luck of getting walked in by someone, his older sister no less, before they could have any proper conversations about any of the serious stuff that don’t include other serious stuff like who wants to have a go at a blow job next, wishing he hadn’t been so taken with Colin to forget his sister is still here, silently praying directly to Colin to please have a freak out later if freak out is indeed on the menu.

What he doesn’t expect, though, is the other two setting down plates like nothing happened after the initial shock, and bonding over memories of Bradley. He sits and silently weeps over his no-meat fate, and falls prey to the riveting conversation the other two are having.  
"Nooo."  
"I’m telling you."  
"Bradley is that true?"  
"What?"  
"The Petting ZOO story."  
"What of it?"  
"That you fell in love with a three-legged lamb and wanted to take it home with you?"  
"I can neither confirm nor deny these awful allegations."  
"While you were _sixteen_?"

Bradley scoffs at his sister and her well-executed attempts to cripple the image of himself as this tough, fearless dude he wants to sport for Colin. Colin beams at him with a stupid smile on his face, appearing more like he’s teasing Bradley than being in actual shock of this newly-acquired knowledge, and Bradley gets a sinking feeling Colin’s known about his soft interior for all things furry all along. Stupid Colin Morgan. All gorgeous and stupid.

 

***

 

Afterwards, Colin announces he'll take a shower and it gives Bradley enough time to silently freak out that this amazing weekend is coming to an end. And to check his phone. With friends like theirs, he’s developed a third-eye-premonition-feeling-in-bones-or-his-boner that stuff are about to happen. Stuff he didn’t authorize.

He's got an unanswered call from his mother, a text from Tony of all people that sounds both nice and suggestive at the same time and Bradley can’t decide just how inappropriate this is even to him, and (and this is what he was waiting for) five from Eoin.  
He wonders how many are waiting on Colin’s phone or if he actually sent identical ones to both of them and scrolls through.

from: Eoin  
Please tell me you didn't forget to get some rabbit food for Colin. I actually want him to survive this weekend?

from: Eoin  
Okay so you didn't reply. That means you're either dead because of lack of food or you're asleep.

from: Eoin  
Or annoyed with me. (Okay no this one is highly improbable.)

from: Eoin  
Or otherwise engaged.

from: Eoin  
OHMYGOD BRADLEY JAMES YOU SLUT YOU ARE OTHERWISE ENGAGED

from: Eoin  
I JUST GOT A TEXT FROM A SECURE AND WELL-TRUSTED SOURCE AT THE GROUND ZERO LOCATION WHO CONFIRMED BROLIN IS A GO

 

Bradley chuckles and wants to put his phone away, feeling no way like indulging Eoin and replying to any of his messages, when his phone buzzes again. And then again.

from: Tony  
Cast BBQ at my place next weekend.

from: Tony  
I’m sorry I just needed an excuse to text.

from: Tony  
As your on-screen dad, do I at least get to give you away half-way to the altar?

 

He's just in the middle of pondering if Tony isn’t in some café with Eoin right now, giggling like a couple of schoolgirls, when Colin enters the room in a small towel, big smile and whole lot of nothing in between. He smells divine and looks even more godlike and Bradley promptly forgets about the text messages or what phones even are for, because right then Colin purses his lips and lets the towel _go_ and stands there like some marble statue to be _oh_ -ed and _ah_ -ed at and marveled and worshiped, and Bradley readily fills all of those roles at once.

Farewell time so hasn't arrived yet.

Colin’s eyes look dark as Bradley stalks closer, and for a moment he wonders if Colin’s only mirroring Bradley’s own hungry, raw look on his face that shouldn’t be there after two days of touching and holding and kissing and squeezing and panting and more  kissing, but it is, they know what will happen next and Bradley’s knees go weak, thinking daft things like how nice it is of Colin to shag him pro bono, just to keep a little bit of sanity at some uncharted corner of his dusty mind.  
He reaches for Colin, all finesse forgotten now; they both _know_ , they’ve been prodding at this big question mark between them with a shorter stick each time as if gaining confidence at what keeps unravelling underneath. He slides his warm palms along Colin’s torso, hips, arms, he brushes at his private, most sensitive areas and watches with reverence at the response – Colin all but melts as he slumps into him, but only until they start kissing. It is then that Bradley feels he’s being led, first into a deeper kiss, and next onto a bed, where Colin spreads him down and _looks_ , and Bradley waits, breathless with his blush spreading down to his chest, open and offering everything, until Colin smiles to himself, and plunges down.  
There was no question, really, how this would map out – and Bradley isn’t sure if he’s referring to their friendship’s final destination that opened a whole new set of sight-seeing, or this particular sexual encounter, where he opens up, and loves being handled, giving as good as he’s getting but also firmly grasping the lube and handing it to Colin once Colin opens the drawer. They need no words, not after all this time, and as Colin spreads him open, Bradley thinks he’s getting familiar with all those world’s greatest secrets too.  
Especially the hot balloon one.  
He comes to awareness when Colin shudders above him, gasping at Bradley’s nails finding the target of his back, and then dives back under the blanket of touches way too intimate that fill him up to the brink and leave him terribly, terribly empty when gone, having him begging for more. Colin gives it to him, and keeps repeating like a mantra, _I got you, I got you, I got you._ When they merge into one Bradley gets a stray thought of that _coin_ quote, wondering how the hell is he thinking about it now, and then he is thinking about it some more, admitting the brilliance of it, the prodigy and wonder behind it, and looking back up at Colin nearly blinds him. He laughs, and when Colin asks about it, he informs him he needs to put his sunglasses on. Colin gives him a look as if Bradley is extra special, like in the head, but that it’s okay because Colin knows exactly how to treat special Bradleys and is perfectly happy to keep tending to the matter at hand.  
Which is fucking Bradley into the mattress.  
To put it mildly.

When Bradley comes, it is with a soundless and stretched yes falling from his lips, his eyes closing to the rapture of emotion and pleasure that’s slashing through him, his muscles contracting around Colin. Colin is by contrast vocal and expressive, expletives of profane nature leaving his mouth and Bradley can't believe he's privy to something like this, and strains his neck up and kisses him like his life depended on it. Colin allows himself to let go too, and through the long moan that he tries to muffle against Bradley’s skin, Bradley deciphers some pretty crude stuff in equal amounts to disgustingly sweet little endearments and is momentarily jealous of his right shoulder to be on the receiving end of this.

 

***

 

"My ass hurts a bit but I'll live."

It’s been quiet for way too long and Bradley feels like he should break the silence with something. What comes out is naturally the first thing between his mind and his mouth and he’d like to go back and say something infinitely smarter, but there it is, he’s a muppet and Colin knows this and maybe, just maybe that’s not a deal-breaker for him. Bradley keeps fingers crossed behind his back just in case.

"Good thing you don't need to do any horse riding scenes for a while."

Bradley grins darkly and tries for a bit of nonchalance, although his voice strains a little, "I thought next time I could be riding you."  
"Guh-" is really the only thing Colin has to say to that, his mouth askew and decidedly unhinged.

When Bradley chances another look, Colin is all gentle smiles and biting lips. "How about a repeat performance next weekend?"  
"What do you mean next _weekend_ , Colin. Are you free on Tuesday?"  
"I am. You can take me to the theatre to see Hamlet."  
"Oh so we’re taking the wooing bit slowly now?"  
"I never said we won’t play footsie in the dark and shag afterwards to make even Shakespeare proud."  
"Oh, _good_."  


***

 

Bradley is dozing off again, his daydreaming of Colin moved to a second place and giving way to naughty thoughts of greasy _hamburgers_ with double meat patties. He senses he might be drooling, a little bit on his pillow and a little bit on Colin, when Colin snorts and wakes him up completely.

"Why is Tony sending me messages of giving you away at the wedding?"

Bradley panicks because dear inappropriate co-workers please don’t spook my newly-appointed boyfriend away, and distracts Colin with a sleepy hand job.

It works.

Afterwards they lie in bed, holding hands and grinning at the ceiling. And Colin stays over til next Tuesday.


End file.
